


you’ve been locked in here forever (and you just can’t say goodbye)

by coiledrage



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/F, F/M, M/M, did!neil, foxes react, u already know there’s gonna be hella foxes react
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coiledrage/pseuds/coiledrage
Summary: it’s pretty difficult to figure yourself out when you’re not alone in your own heador, neil josten has d.i.d.
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten & The Foxes (All For The Game), Neil Josten & The Monsters, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 61
Kudos: 209
Collections: All For The Game random short stories





	1. nathaniel wesniski returns, not for the first time

**Author's Note:**

> quick disclaimer: i do not have d.i.d. nor do i know anyone with d.i.d. !! i did do some research though and im trying to accurately depict it in a non-offensive way, but people make mistakes, i am a person, and i’m bound to get it wrong along the way! please correct me when needed! thank you, and please enjoy :’)

the rain is trickling outside. trickling is the only word to describe how it sounds against the roof and the windows and clicking softly against the pavement. neil has his head against andrew’s clothed thigh in andrew’s bed. they’re in columbia. andrew is reading. it smells like books and andrew’s clean sheets and his heavy, manly shampoo. neil breathes it all in greedily and thinks, _i want this forever_. it’s a scary thought. he shoves it to the back of his head. warm sunlight spills through the blinds and scatters across the cool, pale wall.

andrew is perfectly still beneath neil’s head, but every once in a while he’ll clench his fingers where they rest in neil’s hair. he clenches his fingers now, and sighs through his nose, exasperated. he grumbles, “fucking moron.” before he closes his book and places it on the nightstand. 

neil turns to face him and smiles. “what happened?”

“moron died.”

“riveting.”

“indeed.” he pitched his voice higher, mimicking neil.

neil sighed, but his lips were still curled into an easy smile.

“stop looking at me like that.”

“how am i looking at you?”

andrew covered neil’s eyes.

“thank you, andrew, that perfectly answers my question.”

“shut up.”

the day devolved from there.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :*

it should be a good day. the foxes were free all summer for break, but kevin, ever the insufferable exy-addict, (not that neil junkie josten could say much), decided exy practice would start up again on the first day of summer break. today is the first day of summer break. it should be a good day. a normal day, at worst. 

it should be. 

it’s not.

neil woke up with a spring in his step and his shoulders light. he was free of nightmares and filled with something soft and warm that brought color to his cheeks and set his hands in constant motion. he drummed on his knee with his index finger all throughout kevin’s “you’re not good enough, you could be so much better, you could be like me” speech before practice and grinned, elated and aggressive throughout their practice scrimmage. andrew was active in the goal for once, spurred on by neil’s good mood. 

they were bantering. throwing good-natured insults at each other in german from across the court, making nicky laugh with their weird brand of flirting, making matt, who didn’t know the language but knew _them_ , smile. 

but, as has been previously stated, today was not a good day, or even a normal day. 

today was a bad day. at least, for jack.

jack, world renowned buzzkill, threw his racquet to the floor and pulled his helmet off to grin viscously at neil. he said, “hey,  _nathaniel!”_ completely unprompted. just to be a fucking asshole. just because he knew it was a trigger and he liked to ruin perfectly good days with triggers.

neil froze. his body clenched from head to toe and he was stuck.

something was wrong. alarm bells were sounding in neil’s head and he felt tense and _scared_. of jack? was he scared of jack? the stupid loudmouth asshole who spoke in broken curses and lies? scared of _him?_ no. no, something worse. something was _wrong_.

his thoughts grew a little disjointed as he watched jack tuck his helmet under his arm. he felt disconnected and off-center. 

jack continued to grin, ferocious and crooked. “what’s got you so chipper today?” he asked, slanted and broken and _wrong wrong wrong_. “huh, nathaniel?”

neil slowly pulled his gloves off and set his helmet on the floor beside them. the foxes were still and quiet like mice. andrew was at neil’s back in an instant. 

andrew watched, quiet and patient as neil blinked and blinked and blinked before him. something in his expression changed, or hid. he looked blank. he looked empty. he didn’t look like neil. he held a hand out behind his back for andrew. without a second thought, andrew produced a knife and rested it in his palm. his fingers curled around it, but he didn’t touch andrew, and he didn’t approach jack. he just stood there, blank and empty, holding the knife precisely, poised the way a painter held a brush. then he smiled. and andrew knew in his chest it wasn’t neil. 

jack continued, because he was an idiot and an asshole, “come on, nathaniel. what’s got you so giddy? did ya slice someone up last night? like a good little butcher? make daddy proud, huh?” jack hadn’t seen the knife in not-neil’s hand. but he did see andrew. “what, you can’t answer me like a man so you called your bitch to protect yourself?” he twiddled his fingers, “hey, andrew.”

not-neil smiled some more, and it looked wrong on his face. he moved like lightning. 

before anyone could even think to stop him, not-neil had jack pinned against the plexiglass with a knife to his throat. jack’s helmet clattered uselessly to the floor. “nothing more to say, jack?” he laughed sharply, all bite. and his voice was different, too. he didn’t sound like neil, but something about the lilt of his voice was familiar to andrew. all of the hysterical amusement left his face. “keep my name out of your mouth.” he leaned out of jack’s scared face, and like an afterthought, added, “and while you’re at it, andrew’s too.”

then he pulled away from jack, returned andrew’s (clean) knife, and shoulder checked the door to the court open. 

jack crumpled to the ground, unharmed but rightfully terrified. sheena scrambled after him and crouched protectively at his side. no one else moved to help. the rest of the foxes turned to andrew.

sheena said to andrew, “and they call  _you_ the monster?


	2. nathaniel is reacquainted with the monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathaniel meets andrew, nicky, aaron and kevin. officially.

“who are you?”

it’s three in the morning. the sky is dark and the cement is damp on the roof of fox tower. andrew is holding a cigarette to his lips as he watches clouds pass overhead. smoke curls around his blunt fingers. 

not-neil says, “i’m me.” then, “i don’t know.” 

both answers are lies. andrew knows this. not-neil knows this. there’s this little twist to his words, an accent that clips them and rounds out his vowels. it’s his fathers accent. a baltimore accent. not-neil presses his fingers to his mouth, smothers the little distressed noise his throat tries to release without his permission.

andrew turns to face him. “who are you?” he repeats.

it should be an easy question.  _ i am not neil _ . he thinks. _i am nathaniel_. but that name is a secret. this voice is a secret. why is he on the surface? he says nothing. 

andrew says, quietly, like it’s a secret, because it is, “nathaniel.” because he’s fluent in neil’s body language and _this_ is not it.

nathaniel looks at andrew’s nose when he says, “yes.”

“we have to tell bee.”

“betsy dobson. the psychiatrist.” nathaniel replies, focusing his eyes on the purple clouds instead, “okay.”

“you know about bee.” it’s not a question. there is no question mark. “what else do you know?” this is a question.

“everything. nothing.” nathaniel says, like that’s an answer. it’s not. not really.

“you will talk to bee.” again, no question mark.

nathaniel agrees anyway, “i will.”

they return to their shared dorm with kevin. nicky and aaron are playing a video game, cursing at each other from their respective bean bags while kevin watches something exy-related (probably) on his laptop. 

before they pass the threshold, andrew turns to nathaniel and tilts his head. it means, _do you want them to know?_

nathaniel pauses, and lifts his index finger, silently. neil is becoming better at sharing things with his foxes, he wouldn’t mind them knowing. the others are too disconnected to share opinions with nathaniel, of all people. _okay_ sounds like the right answer. he nods. when andrew stays still he gives him an appraising look and continues aloud, “yes, andrew.” this attracts aaron’s attention, which attracts nicky’s attention.

andrew says, “nathaniel.” and nothing more. 

nicky claps a hand to his mouth in shock and aaron’s brows furrow, confused.

andrew meets both of their eyes briefly. he says nothing as he crosses the room and rummages through the freezer for a pint of ice cream. then, when everyone remains quiet, he sighs and blandly says, “well? introduce yourselves. reacquaint. i don’t fucking care.”

nicky is the first to speak. kevin finally pulls his head out of his ass long enough to remove his headphones and listen in on the conversation. he looks a little lost, until nicky asks, “why did he call you nathaniel?”

nathaniel says, “that is my name.”

“no? you’re neil josten.” he doesn’t say abram. nathaniel is pleased to learn andrew hadn’t shared that information. and apparently neil hadn’t either. 

“no. i am nathaniel wesninski.”

aaron, a med student, and surprisingly not as big an idiot as neil had previously implied, says, “you’re nathaniel. you have dissociative identity disorder.”

nathaniel shrugs, “i guess.” his shoulders don’t lower much and his back is rigid. 

aaron doesn’t look particularly pleased to be correct. nicky still looks confused. kevin looks sick.

“and-“ nicky starts, he shakes his head and starts again, “and you like that name? you want to be called that? nathaniel wesninski?”

“i don’t have any other name. not anymore. what else would i be called?” this doesn’t really answer his question, but it’s close enough.

nicky hums, considering. “what about nate?”

“nate?”

“yeah! nate. a nickname.” nicky grins, encouraging and brotherly and affectionate. nathaniel feels warm, almost. it’s not a bad feeling. 

“nate.” he repeats, testing it on his tongue. he’s smiling when he says, “i think i like it.”

“well, then! nate it is. nice to meet you.”

nathaniel smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes this time and it melts slightly on his lips. “it’s nice to meet you, too. at least, officially.”

andrew is halfway through his pint of ice cream when he returns to the living room. “that’s right. we did meet. unofficially. after baltimore. i told neil to bury you. or, i told you to bury yourself, maybe.”

“neil was there, too. but yes, you did say that.”

andrew hummed, “neither of you seem to take directions very well. guess you have that in common.”

nathaniel leveled andrew with an unimpressed look. andrew shrugged.

kevin, who had been quiet for so long nathaniel almost forgot he was there (key word: almost. nathaniel would always be aware of kevin), finally joined the conversation to ask, “is- is neil here? right now?”

“yes. maybe. it’s a little hard to tell. i have a headache. neil is talking, but not to me.”

“not to you?” aaron asks. “who else is there?”

“five.” nathaniel replies, but he sounds far away. andrew, nicky, kevin and aaron share a quick _look_. nathaniel is too dissociated to decipher what it means. “there are- sorry- _uhm_ five of us.” nathaniel presses a hand to his forehead. his head is throbbing. the others are talking amongst themselves, inside. neil sounds the clearest. 

“nathaniel.” andrew says. “sit down.”

nathaniel’s tongue feels heavy when he replies, “okay.” and when he sees nicky extends a hand to guide him he says, “i’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me.” he hums, then, “at least not- uhm, at least not unannounced. or,” a vague motion with his free hand, “you know.”

nicky says, “of course.” a beat of silence passes with nathaniel rubbing his eyes and blinking intermittently. “can i grab your hand, nate?”

“uh- yeah. yeah okay, sure, nicky.” he lets himself be led to the couch beside kevin and spends a solid minute dissociating. when he blinks it’s neil looking through his own eyes again. relief floods him like morphine. 

nicky asks quietly, after a long period of silence, “nate?”

“no. no, i’m me. i’m neil.” and he is. his father’s accent is washed out of his mouth and instead he’s mimicking nicky’s speech pattern and then kevin’s and then aaron’s. andrew doesn’t talk. but he recognizes neil in the blue eyes that watch him peripherally. he recognizes the way neil’s default accent is a mirror of whoever he’s speaking to at the moment. he recognizes the way neil shifts his feet and points his toes outward when he sits. he recognizes the way neil taps a beat with his fingers to his knee. he only sees neil, now. in these movements. in his words. something settles in andrew’s chest. he thinks, _neil is back_ , and knows it to be true. he breathes. 

he calls bee the next morning.


	3. nathaniel antagonizes betsy and neil lies dormant, or pretends to

“hello, i’m betsy dobson. though, from what i’ve heard you already know who i am. you can call me whatever you please. what would you like me to call you?” betsy extends her hand with a warm smile.

nathaniel shakes her hand with his right and tries to return her smile, but his other hand crushes the corner of it with a knuckle to his lips. he sighs. “nathaniel is fine. nicky calls me nate. i like that, too.”

“what was that?” for a second nathaniel thinks she didn’t hear him, but then he follows her finger to where his knuckle is still hovering near his lips, ready to smother another smile. 

“he’s not much of a smiler.” andrew supplies. it’s not an untruthful response, but it’s incomplete.

“neil doesn’t like it when i smile.” nathaniel corrects with a bitter laugh. his laughter is so vicious, so unlike neil, it makes andrew shift in his chair, uncomfortable. 

“why is that?” betsy asks, soft and sweet and warm. nathaniel doesn’t really understand why neil hates her so much. on principle, they both agree that psychiatrists are untrustworthy, but betsy dobson is nice. she cares. it’s a nice change of pace from all of the women nathaniel had been raised around. even his own mother was hard, cold, unfeeling. 

nathaniel leans forward across betsy’s desk to stage-whisper, “he says it makes me look like my father.” he taps the sharp smile that’s slowly cutting into his cheeks, “he’s not wrong. i stole this from him. from nathan.”

betsy hums. she’s writing something in her notepad. nathaniel feels anger coil in his stomach, but he smothers it before it reaches the surface. he doesn’t much like being analyzed, nor do the others. their shared dis-ease spreads wearily through his chest. he smothers that, too. it’s almost natural to him. the smothering of any and every unsettling thing he feels.

“would you like to talk more about that? about nathan and his smile?” betsy asks. she straightens her pen against the spiral of her notepad when she sets it down. it unsettles nathaniel a little bit, the orderly state of her office. it feels too similar to home.

“i thought we were here to talk about d.i.d.” nathaniel loves to dodge direct questions. the smile resurfaces. his fist reaches out to smother it again and he thinks maybe neil isn’t the one doing this. maybe he doesn’t like smiling.

“we are. but we can talk about anything else you’d like, as well.”

he grins, reptilian and sharp, “you think i like nathan?”

andrew shifts again. nathaniel finds it odd how off-put andrew is by his presence. they’ve interacted far too many times for andrew to be unfamiliar with him. or maybe that’s what’s unsettling andrew, the familiarity of nathaniel. maybe he’s realizing nathaniel is often times present when he’s talking to neil.

betsy chooses to maturely ignore the jab and move on. “how many of you are there?”

“there’s only one me.”

“of course,” she chuckles. it’s a warm sound. nathaniel decides then that he may just cooperate with her. if only to satisfy his curiosity of how much she’s willing to forgive. he wonders how long he could annoy her until she tosses him onto a better-equipped therapist. “how many alters does neil have?”

“oh,” nathaniel says, “is that what i am? an alter?” betsy nods. “there are five of us. including neil.”

“how do we know neil is the host?” andrew cuts in. he’s trying not to sound urgent. desperate. he’s failing. nathaniel hears the desperation in his voice. he tries not to laugh in andrew’s face, but it’s a close thing.

“we don’t. but he spends the most time on the surface, per say. from what i know, neil spends the most time fronting.”

“actually,” nathaniel starts with a laugh, “you’d be surprised how often you’re dealing with neil and me. i think you’d call it co-conscious.”

“strange choice of words, dealing.” betsy prompts. 

“maybe. don’t you agree it’s an ordeal to get answers out of neil, or me, for that matter?” nathaniel tilts his head, thoughtfully. 

“you both do a good job of avoiding answers.” betsy concedes. 

nathaniel chooses to ignore that. “you remind me a little of renee. or she reminds me of you. maybe that’s another reason why neil doesn’t like either of you.”

“i’m sure neil doesn’t like you telling betsy his business.” andrew accuses. he looks mad. he looks hidden, really, but nathaniel has always been quick to spot anger. it’s one of the reasons he’s survived so long.

“that’s right. you actually keep neil’s secrets. i admire that. and while i think it’s sweet, what you’re trying to do, betsy dobson doesn’t need to be sheltered or babied. she’s a grown woman. besides, she’s smart. she knows she makes neil uneasy. she’s paid to know.”

“very sweet talk for someone who hates betsy.” andrew replies. he’s mad. nathaniel tilts his head once more.

“you misheard. she makes neil uneasy. i am not neil. i don’t feel what he does. hate is a very strong word, anyway, andrew. though, you seem to use it often.” something in nathaniel’s face softens. he decides to stop antagonizing andrew. andrew is not a threat, and he shouldn’t be treated as one. neil has somehow managed to entangle andrew and hate with the warm, mushy goo of feelings he feels for andrew.

andrew, ever perceptive, takes nathaniel’s silence as the surrender it is. he nods shortly, nathaniel returns it, and they turn back to betsy.

betsy looks between the two of them and quietly jots something down in her notepad. “i’d like to discuss something you mentioned earlier. co-consciousness. is neil conscious with you right now?”

nathaniel hums, “kind of. but he feels a little... far. it’s just me, right now.”

“are you both co-conscious often?”

“yes. but i mostly talk to neil when i’m co-conscious. i don’t usually feel the need to share with the class.” nathaniel spreads his hands as he says class. meaning, the foxes. “neil thought he was going crazy. or that i was just a part of him, something inside of him, a piece of nathan he can never remove. he’s not essentially wrong.”

“while you are a part of neil, he is also a part of you. you and the rest of the alters are separate people, sure, but you’re all interconnected. and you are not nathan. you are nathaniel.”

“i am nathaniel.” nathaniel agrees. “i’m nate, too.”

“would you prefer nate? or is nathaniel okay, too?”

“i think-“ he paused, hand on his knee, fingers tapping. neil is closer. “i think i prefer nate.” nate replies, and this time his smile is a small, fragile thing. a real smile, something untainted by nathan’s malice, and neil’s fear, and his own fear of himself. 

nate proceeds to stare into his lap and blink for a minute straight.

“nate’s leaving.” andrew tells betsy.

“nate’s gone.” neil replies, eyes on andrew, fingers twisting the fabric of a shirt he hadn’t agreed to wear.

“hello, neil.” betsy says, but she sounds a little unsure, a little hesitant. she’s not sure she’s talking to neil. 

“hello, dr.dobson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello am back w a new chapter <3 hope u enjoy!!


	4. neil has many separate very stunted conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil unsuccessfully chats with betsy, nicky, aaron and kevin

“so, neil,” betsy starts. she still sounds unsure of herself when she says his name. neil guesses he can’t really blame her. “would you mind telling me about your alters? how many are there, what do you know about them, etcetera, etcetera.”

“i have four alters. i don’t know them all. nate’s the only one i’ve really talked to my whole life. sometimes the others talk to me but i guess i didn’t know? i don’t know. i don’t really know them, yet. but i know their names.”

“what are their names?”

neil shakes his head. sharing things with betsy is like pulling teeth. he’s wary. he’s not ready.

“how much do you know about them and what roles they play in your system?” betsy twirled her pen in her hand, once, twice, and set it along the spine of her notebook.

“my system, huh. not much. “know” is a weird word to use. i only _know_ what they want to tell me, show me.”

“would you care to share what they’ve told you?” betsy leaned forward, elbows resting on her desk, invested. neil felt nauseous. she tilted her head and waved her hand in a “carry on” motion.

“i wouldn’t much care to share anything, if we’re being honest.” neil grumbled, arms crossed against his chest. he was curled on in himself defensively, which was annoying because somehow looking defensive felt more revealing than just spilling his guts to betsy. 

andrew snorted, a little relieved to see neil in his own body again, a little amused at how “neil” he was acting.

“shut up.” neil said in a huff, glancing at andrew over his shoulder. 

“we can cut this session short, if you’d like, neil.”

“i’d like that, yes.” neil agreed, hurriedly standing from his chair and stretching a hand out for andrew to take. andrew released a put-upon sigh, but took neil’s hand all the same.

the drive back to fox power was less stressful than the drive out. neil twisted the clothes he hadn’t picked out around his fingers.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :*

nicky, kevin and aaron, surprisingly (or not really), are waiting for andrew and neil when they return to fox tower. 

“so,” starts nicky, fingers clenched tight in the fabric of his jeans, “how was it?”

“you know bee.” andrew replies, as if that were an answer, and wanders into the bathroom, ignoring the three pairs of curious eyes at his back.

neil tries to supply a more helpful answer, “it was fine.” and fails miserably.

“ _fine_ could mean anything when it comes to you, asshole.” grumbles aaron. he’s trying to cover up his concern with anger and he’s also failing miserably.

“it was okay,” neil tried again, twisting the shirt nate picked to wear. he’s a little bothered by the fact he had no say on today’s outfit. allison would be proud, though, he thinks. nate is better at putting clothes together than he is, which isn’t saying much. “nate mostly cooperated. he’s a little difficult.”

“says you.” aaron scoffs.

“rude.” sniffs nicky.

kevin is resolutely silent. there’s a furrow in his brows that makes neil uncomfortable. he looks worried. “are you ...okay?”

“i’m fine-“ neil starts and stops right after, silently kicking himself, “i’m okay. just- a little overwhelmed. this is a lot. i’ve been dealing with nate and ..the rest.. for a while now but i thought i was just crazy. it’s really scary and maybe a little bit of a relief to have a diagnosis and know this is real?”

nicky breathes, “how many are there again?”

“five.” says aaron.

“will we get to meet them all?” asks kevin.

neil scuffs his shoes on the carpet, “i guess, eventually. it’s up to them. maybe you’ve already met.”

“well, that’s unhelpful.” aaron sighs, arms tightly crossed and concerned. neil shifts uncomfortably under their gazes. he’s getting used to being taken care of by the foxes, but it’s a slow and trying process. he feels like a child. he feels like at any moment they’re going to call coach on him, or the police, maybe. though, with the foxes very low opinion of pigs, it’s unlikely.

luckily, andrew returns from the bathroom and promptly kicks everyone out of the suite before neil has to make another stunted attempt at conversation.


	5. neil has a pretty successful conversation with andrew, unsurprisingly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and neil are good at communicating, neil is still bad at it in general though so we must be patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doubly update bc i feel bad about how infrequently i update and how short my updates are <33 also i may have gotten a little trigger happy and revealed all of the boys names 👀 enjoy babes !!

“how long have you known?” andrew looked hidden again which meant he looked mad. neil remained unconcerned, though. it was a new thing for him, to feel so calm in the face of another man’s anger. 

“years. days. i’ve never really known. i think my mom knew. i thought i was crazy. she treated me like i was crazy, which i guess didn’t help. i still think i’m crazy.” he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

“aren’t you?”

“hey.” neil protested. andrew did this thing with his mouth like he was trying not to smile. it didn’t really work. neil sighed and stretched a hand out, waiting for andrew’s nod of acquiescence before running his fingers through his hair. 

they were in the dorm, ending the day together, tangled on the couch. most days ended like this. andrew on his back, neil between his legs, hands pillowing his chin on andrew’s chest as he gazed up affectionately through his dark lashes. this close, andrew could see the deep red of neil’s eyelashes. this was almost his favorite sight, second only to the view of campus from the roof of fox tower.

monotony was a tedious, draining thing. andrew tolerated it with neil by his side. after nearly two years of living with this monotony, it was unsettling to learn neil’s brain was experiencing it through so many different lenses. andrew kept sifting through his memories, pulling picture after picture. nathaniel was in every single one. it was unsettling.

“what’re you thinking about?” neil asked, pressing his thumb to the furrow of andrew’s brow.

“nothing.” andrew said. he was smirking. 

neil sighed once more. “what about me?” he twisted a lock of andrew’s blond hair around his finger.

“i want to know more about them.” andrew tilted his head away from neil’s hand. neil withdrew his fingers from andrew’s hair and ran them through his own.

“fine. what do i get in return?” 

“oh, are we playing?” andrew’s eyebrow hiked up his forehead. “hmm, it’s been a while.” he hummed. “what do you want?” neil tensed a little over him. he smoothed a thumb across the slope of neil’s cheekbone in an attempt to comfort him that didn’t seem to be working.

“i want you to keep someone away from coach.” neil’s face looked so sharp, andrew nearly cut himself stroking his jaw.

“does coach need protecting?”

“chris. chris needs protecting.” neil mumbles. “he’s not going to stay if he’s around coach. i need you to keep them apart or chris will run. if you think i’m a rabbit-” he shook his head. “i need you to keep him away from coach.”

“okay.” andrew nodded. he untangled neil’s fingers from his own hair. “their names. what are they?”

“nate, chris, alex and stefan.”

andrew took a slow breath in. “who have i met?”

“i’m not so sure. nate and alex, i think. stefan doesn’t come out often and chris even less.”

“alex?” it was hard to listen when andrew was scratching neil’s scalp to the rhythm of his breath. even then, it wasn’t much of a question and neil wasn’t really sure how to answer.

“he’s a cheeky bastard. very... smiley. you’ll know it’s him.” 

“is there anyone i need to protect from the others?” andrew tilted his head to the right, “or protect the others from?”

“no, everyone’s safe. except for jack, maybe.” neil grinned like the cat that got the cream, “oh, maybe protect yourself when chris meets kevin. he’ll be star-struck, the little fucker. all that exy talk’ll drive you mad.”

“i think i can handle it. after all, i put up with you.” andrew replied, lips curling into a smirk. neil elbowed him gently in the ribs and leaned forward to kiss his lips clean of it.

they kissed gently. this was also new. nearly two years of “this” and it was still so new to be gentle. andrew was slowly learning that touch didn’t have to be an “all or nothing” ordeal and neil was finally accepting that touch doesn’t need a reason. comfort doesn’t need a why. kissing doesn’t need an explanation. it’s just this. neil hand spread across andrew’s collar, his index finger resting softly against the fragile skin of his neck, andrew’s hand cupping neil’s head, fingers tangled in thick, auburn curls. lips pressed to lips. heart to heart. breathing each other in, slowly, gently. it’s just this. moments dripping by like honey, unhurried, sweet. 

after minutes or hours, andrew pulled away, pressed a chaste kiss to neil’s jaw and asked, “what do you mean when you say little?”

neil fidgeted with the collar of andrew’s turtleneck. “chris,” he said, “he’s a kid. he- he told stefan he turns ten this year. he’s a _kid_.” he turned his head into andrew’s neck and breathed for a moment, two. andrew’s expression was steel behind neil’s back as he wrapped himself protectively around him. 

“i’ll keep him safe.” andrew promised, nose buried in neil’s hair.

neil sighed softly into andrew’s neck, relieved. “thank you.”


End file.
